Engorgement
by Jonn Wood
Summary: Harry gets pregnant. And gives birth. Whether he wants to or not. MPREG fic parody.
1. Chapter 1

Sobs racked Harry's body as he clung to the bedsheets. Ron was above him, dimly visible through the tears. For some reaon he couldn't recall, he was still wearing his glasses; it seemed important, somehow.

At this time of night, the room was silent, but for his groans and struggles. Ron held his hand, tightly, to keep him from running away, and more than once pressed him back down into the bedsheets. Harry bit down on a convenient sheet and wondered when the pain would end.

Curse that Malfoy.

It had started on a regular day; both Slytherin and Gryffindor-who had thought that would be a good idea?-leaving potions at the same time. Somehow, Harry had tripped on his robe and knocked over Draco. After landing in the remains of several smashed ingredients, he scrambled to his feet, just in time to see Draco's hand clear his robes and point something at him. Then it all went black.

He had woken up in the Hospital Wing, none the worse off, but for a craving for pumpkin juice and pickles and a remarkably dry mouth. Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep on two chairs nearby. Madam Pomfrey was standing above his bed, looking grave.

"About time," she said. "You've been asleep for hours." She nodded toward Ron and Hermione. "These two fell asleep quite some time ago."

"What-what's happened to me?" said Harry. His mouth was dry, and his stomach felt funny.

"We're not sure. Apparently, that vial that you broke had a potion based on a certain..._fluid_ that Mr. Malfoy had been mucking about with in class. This, combined with several other potions ingredients and the spell he cast, somehow managed to...alter your body."

Harry's heart shot up to his throat.

"Alter? How?"

"Perhaps you had better see for yourself." She drew back the covers.

Harry suddenly couldn't breathe. He put a shaking hand to his belly to confirm that it was real, that he hadn't been hit with an Engorgement Charm.

"I can't be pregnant," he whispered. "I haven't even finished High School."


	2. Chapter 2

This fic takes place during Half-Blood Prince.

* * *

Nine days. Each day corresponding to about a month. Such was the particular cruelty of the curse.

"On the other hand," said Ron brightly, "You'll be done with it in about a week!"

Harry grunted, his mind elsewhere. He was primarily concerned with the sheer psychological _weight_ of being an unwed, virgin (cough) father. He had sent a School Owl off to the ministry asking for all help in this matter, but he figured they wouldn't be overly concerned with a condition that sounded like it was taken from the stories those giggling third-year girls wrote.

Also, he had no idea how a pregnant person was supposed to act. The craving for pumpkin juice was easy; he was thirsty. The pickles were because he hadn't had any for months. Come to think of it, he wanted an apple. He would have to go down to the ki-

_"Potter!"_

That couldn't be good.

Sure enough, Malfoy was striding towards them, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Obviously, he had put whatever he was working on off long enough to come sneer at Harry. "Hello..._Potter_," he sneered.

"Hello..._Malfoy_," Harry riposted.

Had this been a Western, this was the point at which the townspeople would've started running for cover.

Malfoy drew first; "Are you sure you want to be out, Potter? A person in your condition shouldn't be _exerting_ herself." Crabbe and Goyle tittered obediently.

A tumbleweed crossed the street as Harry's gun cleared the holster. As the weed softly bounced onto the porch of the saloon, Harry's revolver leveled, and he squeezed the trigger.

"Oh, I'm sorry Malfoy, I didn't hear you. I was just wondering what a boy like you would be doing with his..._juice_ in Potions. It certainly couldn't be to augment yourself, could it?" Harry smiled benignly. "Pansy been complaining, hmm?"

A bang rang out, and the black-hatted desperado staggered back, a good deal of his arm blown away by the dark-haired man's shot. "This isn't over, Potter," he hissed, eyes blazing. "Not by a long shot." He staggered out of town, his two accomplices following.

Harry watched them go, feeling oddly unsatisfied. "Come on," he said to Ron, "or we'll be late."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of his third month of pregnancy found Harry staring into a toilet bowl. His stomach lurched, and he opened his mouth again, just before a torrent spewed out. As it subsided, he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeping robes.

"What the-?" he asked the smooth porcelain.

"Morning sickness, mate," said a voice from the doorway. Harry turned; Ron was standing there, clearly trying to hold back laughter "My mother had it when she was pegnant with me."

"If she was pregnant with you, how do you-"

"My father made notes."

"Why wo-"

"You're also starting to show around the middle," Ron knelt, and poked Harry's stomach.

"I was showing in the infirmary, remember?"

"That was just one of the side effects of the spell. It went down, in case you didn't notice."

"Side effects?" Harry's mouth twitched. "Pregnancy spells have side effects?" He started to laugh, for what felt like the first time in a long while. Ron joined in too, right up until Harry lunged for the toilet again. After a few minutes, the retching stopped, and Harry wiped his mouth again on the now-filthy sleeve of his robe.

"Could you help me up?"

"To the bed?"

"No, the bath." Harry pointed at the window; golden streaks were beginning to shine through the stained glass, and the Gryffindor sixth-years were beginning to stumble, yawning, into the bathroom.

"Can I get you anything?"

"My robes, some pumpkin ice cream, and olives. Lots of olives."

* * *

Subtext for the R/H shippers? Whatever gave you that idea?


	4. Chapter 4

The sixth day ended with Harry and Ginny snuggling in the Gryffindor common room. Or, rather, they were _trying_ to snuggle; Harry's large stomach was something of an impediment. Ron and Hermione were holding back laughter, and several of the Gryffindor boys were taking notes, should they ever have to do something similar. Colin Creevey was off somewhere developing his latest photos of pregnant!Harry, and the common room was largely quiet, save for the crackle of the fire, the quiet hum of conversation, the scrape of quills on parchment, and the soft bickering of Harry and Ginny trying to maneuver around each other.

"This isn't _working_," complained Ginny, collapsing into a nearby chair. She glared at Harry's swollen belly. "That _thing_ had better come soon, or-"

"Hang on, what's _this_?" Harry leaned forward and picked up a Prophet that someone had left on the table. He was on the cover, with nothing but his glasses. The headline read "**POTTER/MALFOY:ONE TRUE PAIRING?**". His equipment disappeared just below the bottom of the frame, and he was stroking his stomach sensually, with his eyes closed, and his mouth hanging open in what could only be described as an-"

Harry suddenly realized that Ginny was glaring at him now, instead of his stomach.

"Profiting off of our misfortune, are we, Harry?" she said coldly.

Harry was dimly aware of all the conversation in the room stopping. "I didn't-"

"Didn't _what_? Harry? Didn't notice half the students in the Great Hall this morning with their noses buried in the _Prophet_? Didn't think about how your pregnancy was going to affect others? Affect us? Affect _you_? How are you going to take care of a child?"

Vaguely, Harry recalled a louder than usual buzz at breakfast, and Hermione and Ron trying to get him to look at the paper. Vaguely, because he had been neck deep in a large bowl of fruit salad and tartar sauce at the time. "I have money-"

"I'm not _talking_ about money!" Now the redhead had gotten up, and was leaning over Harry, her arms pinning his to the chair's arms. Funny, thought Harry, how such a petite redhead could have him cowering in fear. "I'm talking about _experience_! Your own childhood wasn't exactly nurturing, as I recall! You don't know the slightest thing about taking care of kids!"

Something snapped.

"It's all well and good for you, isn't it?" yelled Harry. "Just standing there, questioning me! D'you think I haven't thought about this? D'you think I haven't been lying awake at night, wondering what on Earth I'm going to do with this baby? I'm only sixteen! Of course I bloody have!" Somehow, he had stood up, and was now face to face with the equally-mad Ginny. "But I know where to get help, I know who to ask, AND IT'S CERTAINLY NOT YOU!"

There were a few seconds where Harry and Ginny just looked into the other's eyes, panting.

Then they kissed.

After a few seconds, they broke off, looked at their shoes, and mumbled apologies.

Ron cleared his throat.

Harry and Ginny looked around in surprise; they had almost completely forgotten that there were other people in the room. Ginny yawned theatrically.

"Well, I'm going to call it a night," she said. She gathered up her books and headed up to the girls' rooms, and Harry collapsed back into the armchair.

"Well, that was dramatic," commented Hermione. "But then again, the whole week has been full of nothing but scenes. Remember when you told Dumbledore you were pregnant?"

* * *

"Headmaster," Harry had said, "I'm pregnant."

"I shall instruct the house-elves to lay in an extra supply of olives."

* * *

"And McGonagall?"

* * *

"Professor McGonagall? I'm pregnant."

"I knew nothing good was going to come of Draco's little experiment."

* * *

"And Snape?"

* * *

"I had you pegged for a single father, Potter, but not this like _this_."

* * *

"And Hagrid?"

* * *

"I recommend fruit salad and tartar sauce."

"Why?" Harry had asked.

And Hagrid's face had gone carefully blank.

* * *

"And Trelawney?"

* * *

"Madame Trelawney-"

"You're pregnant."

"How did you know?"

"I see all, _with my Inner Eye_."

"McGonagall told you, didn't she?"

And Trelawney's face had gone carefully blank.

* * *

"And the Qudditch team?"

* * *

"I'm pregnant. I won't be able to attend tomorrow's game."

And the team had gone quiet, except for someone at the back muttering about there being a precedent. If Wood had still been there, he doubtless would've replied "And?"

* * *

"And Madam Pince?"

* * *

"Madam Pince, I'm looking for a book on male pregnancy."

"Ah, yes, I've heard of your problem. Perhaps you should try those stories those giggling third-year girls always seem to be writing."

"I want realism."

"Have you talked to Hagrid?"

* * *

"Incidentally, mate," Ron chimed in, "How are you stretching your clothes to fit?"

"He's _not_," said Hermione. "I taught him a spell that would stretch his clothes, no matter how much he grew."

There was an awkward silence.

"Harry, what are you going to do with the kid?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know." Harry stared up at the ceiling. "I don't even know how to take care of a child, and I don't have a job to bring in income."

"Didn't your parents leave you, say, _a bank vault full of money_?"

"That's not the point." Harry had closed his eyes, and his face was scrunched up with concentration. "Where will I go? What will I do?"

Ron and Hermione waited for him to quote some more lines from the movie. After a while, they realized he had fallen asleep, and carried him to his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

As the birth day approached, Harry started to notice things. Like the fact that people were being nicer to him; he got a free mug of beer at the Broomsticks, and people kept offering to help him down stairs which he was perfectly capable of navagating on his own. On the one hand, it felt good to have all the little favors being done to him, after Umbridge's reign of terror the year before.

On the other, his back was killing him.

Towards the end of the seventh day, Harry was studying in the library, when Draco appeared out of nowhere. Oddly, he wasn't flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter," he said, "We need to talk."

Harry carefully sealed his ink and moved it off the table.

"About what?" he said warily.

Draco slowly sat down, keeping his hands in plain view.

"About-" his mouth worked like he was swallowing something tough "-our _child_."

Harry unconciously reached for his stomach. "What's there to talk about?"

"Its future."

Harry's face could've been carved from stone.

"I know we've never liked each other, but that thing in you is my child as much as yours, and it deserves to have a decent life. You can't give it that life running around the world being an Auror. What if you're killed? What if your enemies use it against you?" At some point, he had leaned in, and was now speaking in a near-whisper. "What if Lord Voldemort uses it against you?"

"Speaking of which, how are you and he getting on?"

It was a shot in the dark, but it scored. Draco's face went blank, and he leaned back. He rubbed his forehead, and he suddenly looked far more tired than his sixteen years, and not a little bit scared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nevermind. What are you going to it, hmm? Hand if off to one of your servants in that big ol' drafty house of yours? Hmm? Given the job you mother did on you, I think I have reason to doubt her parenting sk-"

"You shut your mouth," said Draco hoarsely. Harry noted with some satisfaction that his face had gone red, and his hands were shaking. "You don't have the maturity to take care of a child, Potter. Do you know how much money my father has? Do you realize that we could take the baby from you and have it tied up in the bureaucracy for _years_? Face it, Potter, you don't have a chance. That _child_ will be mine."

"The connections that helped him right into prison?" Harry started to gather up his books. "This conversation is over."

Draco reached over and grabbed his tie, pulling him close, close enough to kiss. "That child is mine as much as yours, Potter, and it's a pureblood." he hissed. "Do you think that you honestly deserve to keep it? Sooner or later, I _will_ have my son, and the Malfoy line _will _continue."

"Is there a problem?"

Draco leaned away from Harry, and raised his voice to a normal level. "No, Madam Pince. No problem at all." He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair, and stalked off in a swirl of black robes.

"Harry?"

Harry was watching Draco leave. He sighed, and rubbed his throat. "I'm fine," he said, sitting down.


	6. Chapter 6

He was moving backward, he knew that much. Torches flickered on the walls as he moved past him. He supposed he could be falling down a long corridor, falling headfirst. That didn't explain why Ron and Hermione were falling facedown, or why they appeared to be running, or why he didn't feel the wind rushing past his ears. In fact, all he felt were some pains, about his-ah.

"Where are we going?" he said. His mouth was oddly dry.

"That's what _I_ want to know, " declared McGonagall, falling crisply into step with Hermione and Ron. "This is hardly the best way to get to the hospital wing. I must say, Ms. Granger, Protocol B32-5A has not been enacted in decades. Most people don't even know that there are emergency procedures for students in labor. It's probably buried in some old-"

She glanced at Hermione.

"-book." she finished limply.

"But you have of-age students here," said Ron. "Surely girls give birth all the time?"

McGonagall spared the time to give him a withering look. "I said nothing about _girls_," she sniffed. "Left, if you please."

They emerged from the passage behind the tapestry to find themselves near the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them, and Harry was soon made comfortable-relatively speaking-in the peculiar bed in the corner he had noticed on previous occasions. The straps and harnesses and such rose blithely up and arranged themselves appropriately.

At some point in the ensuing haze, Harry lifted his head and discovered that the clamor in his ears was a roomful of people, all clamouring to be heard, with Madam Pomfrey shoving them back. Snape, McGonagall, Hermione, Dobby, Ron, Draco, Hagrid("Breathe slowleh', Harry!"), Trelawny, and several others were all vying for a word with him. He could've sworn he saw Professor Binns holding a jar and clicking a pair of forceps unpleasantly.

"I didn't know you cared," he murmured to himself, then flopped back.

Eventually, the clamor subsided to a dull roar, and the roar gave way to a decisive soind of wood-on-metal as the door was barred. A few clicks of heels, and Madam Pomfrey was at his bedside. A snap of the fingers, and the bed bought him to a sitting position.

"Drink this," said Pomfrey, shoving a clear bottle half-full of liquid on him. Harry shrank away; glass containers of unknown liquids were what had gotten him in this situation in the _first_ place.

"Just _take_ it, Potter." Draco was leaning rakishly against a bedpost, or attempting to lean rakishly. Harry wondered if the peculiar shivering was a result of his own sweat-blurred eyes. He blinked. No, still there. Draco caught him looking and began to pace tensely around the room.

"It's for stretching," said Hermione, avoiding his eyes. Ron was holding back laughter, and Harry fought down a rising panic.

"Stretching _what_?" his voice a strangled shout.

"Both," said Pomfrey, replacing a dusty pair of glasses on a shelf. "Congratulations. You're having twins."

* * *

Times of great stress are often blocked out as much as possible. The mind blurs long stretches of pain into a grey sameness, and only a few times stand out.

-Harry yelling at Draco, something about _you did this to me_ and scrabbling for his wand, while Hermione and Ron try to stop him, and Draco scrambling for cover.

-A great buildup of pressure, then release. Pomfrey placing the crying child

_it's a boy  
_

in a hamper. Harry realized that it had his hair and Draco's eyes.

_James Narcissus_.

-Rolling onto his front.

-Yelling in pain.

-Rolling onto his side.

-Hagrid visiting with advice.

-Pushing.

-Ron snoring.

-Ron, dimly visible, holding his hand while he clung to the bedsheets, somehow wearing his glasses. Dead silence, but for his own sobs. Biting on a sheet, and cursing Malfoy, the name Malfoy, Hogwarts, anyone else he could think of, and the dawn of the day a letter for him first slipped through the Dursley's mail slot. Hermione, Malfoy, Pomfrey, and, for the first time during the ordeal he could recall, Dumbledore, standing nearby looking grave.

-Release.

- Pale hair, green eyes.

_Lucy Molly_.

-Draco, Hermione and Ron arguing frantically with Dumbledore as he picks the children up. Harry rising to his elbows, aware that something is wrong. Sudden tightness in the throat, everything disappearing down a dark tunnel.

-Sleep.

* * *

(One last chapter.)


	7. Zwischenzug

It was a a clear day.

For Scotland, anyway.

Harry and Draco met at the door to Dumbledore's office, barely looking at each other.

"Potter," said Draco frostily.

"Malfoy," said Harry.

They both gave the password at the same time, and grimaced, each glancing at the other. The ride to the office was undertaken as far away as possible from each other, which, on a staircase, wasn't very. Emerging, they each sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, occasionally glaring at each other. There was a swishing sound, and Dumbledore walked from behind their chairs to sit at the desk.

"I suppose you want to know why," he said quietly.

Harry and Draco swallowed the question that had been on both of their lips.

"We pieces on a chessboard, gentlemen. Some are more important than others. Some seek to reach the eighth square."-and Here, Harry could've sworn his eyes flicked to Draco-"But whether we like it are not, we are all pieces. Some pieces, once threatened, can be used to draw other pieces into traps. Some pieces, once destroyed,"-now to his eyes looked at Phineas Black's portrait, just for an instant-"can leave others in jeopardy. _Do you understand_?"

It seemed to Harry that the last sentence was uttered with a low rumble, like distant thunder. He swallowed.

"I do," he said.

"Yes," said Draco.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "The children, incidentally, are under false names in a distant part of the country, being taken care of by a loving young couple, unable to have children of their own. They _will be returned_"-that thunder again-"upon the end of this current-state of affairs. _Do not seek them out_. I have them hidden more completely than you can imagine, and looking for them will only result in jepoardizing both them, and you. Do you understand?"

"Yessir," said both.

"Good," said Dumbledore. He stood, and turned. "That is all."

The chairs scraped as the two stood up. They made for the door, and Draco raised a querulous hand-

"That is _all_, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, still studying the wall intently.

They left.

After a curt nod, they headed in opposite directions at the foot of the staircase. Harry wandered down to the hallway where Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid were waiting, and outlined what had happened in a few terse words.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione.

"Tough, mate," said Ron.

"I know how yeh feel, Harry," said Hagrid.

Harry realized that the tightness in his chest was lifting. Dumbledore was right; they were safer this way. That only left one thing-

"Hagrid, how do you know so much about everything I just went through? "

Hagrid blanched, and turned to Hermione, who wore a curious expression on her face, as did Ron. He looked at the Giant Squid cavorting in the lake for a few moments, before turning back to the trio.

"All right," he said. "Yeh know Fang...?"

* * *

Petunia was mentally running down lists in her mind. One was comprised of groceries, and the other was of what others were buying. Martha Jones had a remarkably large bottle of olives-probably was drinking before noon. If one had _her _husband, Petunia mused, pushing the cart along, one _would_ drink too.

A cart passed her, headed in the opposite direction. In it were two infants, one with hair that reminded her of Lily's nasty, _freakish _husband, and the other had eyes that reminded her _uncomfortably _of Lily. They stared at her as they passed, and Petunia shuddered, _just _like a ghost had walked over her grave.

She stared after it for a few seconds, shrugged, and kept walking. They were rather low on toffee...

* * *

**The End**

**

* * *

**Glad _that's_ over with.**  
**


End file.
